


Illusion of Control

by Snazzy_Suit



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Burns gets introspective, Gen, Rude Awakening, go figure, like holy shit, wow humans aren't really a threat to giant robots?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 10:20:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18689536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snazzy_Suit/pseuds/Snazzy_Suit
Summary: Agent Burns had a revelation that fateful night. The night where the fate of the human race—of the entire planet—fell on the shoulders of a twelve foot robot and a teenage girl on the cusp of adulthood. It began when B-127's optics turned from a piercing blue to an ominous red.They were never in control.





	Illusion of Control

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno what this is. I just couldn't stop thinking about how Burns (and all of Sector 7, really) behaved like they had a ghost of a chance against advanced alien robots. Then in that one scene where Bee bitch slaps Burns away he has that look on his face like--Oh...OH. We're FUCKED. This robot has been holding BACK (as far as he knows, memory loss shenanigans and all that).
> 
> So yeah, just...take it

Control is an illusion of power. 

Or…something to that effect. Human behavior isn’t Agent Burns’ area of expertise, and he doesn’t know how much stock he holds in that field of study, but he can certainly attest to the fallacy that is control. No matter how prepared you are, no matter how well equipped you think yourself to be, you _never_ truly have complete control. And there is no better—or crueler—teacher of that than a battlefield. 

Agent Burns knows all this, and yet he still finds himself overestimating his sphere of influence.  

The alien mech designated as B-127 is damaged and completely at their mercy. The machine can only reach piteously toward its human shield  _(because that’s all the girl could have possibly been to it)_ as his men drag it away to be scrapped. Burns restrains the young woman as she reaches back for it, struggling with all her might to escape his grasp  _(because she_ _doesn’t_ _understand_ _that_ ** _thing_** _is_ ** _using_ ** _her)_ _._ The kid—Charlie, he reminds himself—won’t listen to reason, and after she delivers one particularly strong strike to his gut, he throws her to the ground in a lapse of patience. 

That’s when the illusion of control begins to crack. 

The robotic alien slams one of its colossal hands into the ground, cracking the pavement as its fingers curl to grip at the surface. A metallic  _twang_ rings from the cables impaled into the machine's back as they’re pulled taut by the sudden resistance. The three Humvees that had been near effortlessly towing the mech now spin in place on screeching tires, the pungent scent of burning rubber filling the air. Burns can only watch in horror as the robotic menace slowly rises to its feet. Its narrowed optics hone dangerously on him as their glow dims from a piercing blue to an ominous red. 

The illusion of control doesn’t just break, it  _shatters_. 

Agent Burns is swatted away like he is nothing more than a bothersome fly. The mech turns and slices through the cables with a retractable blade in its forearm, freeing itself in one swift motion. His men open fire without further prompting, but the machine appears mostly unfazed by their efforts. Its opposite arm shifts and transforms into what Burns can only describe as a  _canon_  and retaliates in kind. 

It goes to hell so fast.  

Their transports are blown to pieces and engulfed in flames. Embers and smoking debris rain down on them like igneous hail as the robotic monstrosity continues in its onslaught. In mere seconds, all their support vehicles and weaponry are completely obliterated. Agent Burns has no choice but to order a retreat.  

As Burns helps one of his men hobble to safety, he can’t help but cast a final glance over his shoulder. The girl, Charlie, is at the mech’s side, hands raised placatingly. He observes with wide eyes as the extraterrestrial retracts its weapons and takes a knee before her. It extends the very arm that had just laid waste to his caravan and allows the teen to clutch one of its massive digits. It’s an impossibly gentle—impossibly  _human_ —gesture. 

Burns is left  _reeling_. 

The agent thinks back to the first time he laid eyes on B-127. He won’t ever admit it, but the man had been  _terrified_ . Who wouldn’t have been? Tensions in the military were high enough as it was, but throw  a fucking twelve-foot tall  _robot_ into the mix?  _Christ_ , and the thing had come out of _nowhere_. Just…fell out of the damn sky. Right on top of his squad. Burns had thought they were under attack.  

But…it hadn’t attacked, had it? The machine had ample time to mow down Burns and his men before reinforcements arrived, but it  _didn’t_. It  _ran_. That’s all it had  _ever_  done. The closest thing it did to retaliation was slice down a few trees to impede their pursuit. Even when they had the machine cornered, it hadn’t lashed out. It had spoken to them—no,  _pleaded_ with them. The robotic alien had tried to assure them that it meant them no harm.  

Agent Burns distantly wonders how things would have proceeded from there had that Decepticon not shown up and blown them all to kingdom come. Would he have believed the alien mech? Could they have resolved things peacefully? Or would he have assumed the machine was lying because they had it on the ropes? 

Burns realizes now that the only deception on the yellow mech's part was concealing just how powerful it really was. B-127 could have annihilated them at any time, and it would have been so  _easy_. Instead, it offered diplomacy at the risk of its own safety.  

But then…hadn’t the Decepticons done that as well?  

Burns had never trusted the Decepticons  _(_ _with a name like that_ _, why would_ ** _anyone_** _?)_ , but that hadn’t really mattered at the time. The two alien machines were offering technological advancements beyond anything they could have ever imagined. Burns' superiors couldn’t have cared  _less_ about any ulterior motives the extraterrestrials might have possessed. Once the government felt they had all they could get from the mechs, they were going to have them dismantled—dissected and stripped for parts. Deceive the Decepticons. It seemed fitting. Poetic, even. 

How foolish, how  _arrogant_ , they had been. 

If the Decepticons are as powerful as B-127  _(he has a feeling it’s more so)_ , then Burns and his men wouldn’t have stood a chance. How small, how insignificant they must look to the alien mechs; like primitive apes wielding sticks and stones. The two war machines could have easily swept them aside at their first encounter and carried on with their mission, but they hadn’t. Not out of self-preservation, not out of benevolence, but because as inferior as humans were, they still had  _use_. Their temporary alliance was simply a means to an end—a convenience, not a necessity. 

Sector Seven wasn’t a threat to these alien mechs. They  _never_ were. 

This couldn’t have been made more clear to Agent Burns after his swift defeat at the satellite tower. The munitions from his helicopter had done little more than annoy the red mech before the latter shot him down. Burns would probably be dead, if not severely wounded, had B-127 not caught his spiraling ride. He remembers peering back into those bright blue optics as they scrutinized him through the cracked windshield. He had never been this close to one of the mech’s faces—never realized how  _expressive_ they could be. Somehow, with but a shift of plating and contracting lenses, the metal warrior was able to convey a single, sobering message. 

_I’m not doing_ _this for_ ** _you_ ** 

And why would they? Burns had done nothing but attempt to destroy the alien mech since the very beginning. He isn’t sure he would have been quite so forgiving had the roles been reversed. So, with all this in mind, Burns finds himself reiterating: why help at all? Because they shared a common enemy? If the Decepticons win, they  _all_ lose? While true, Burns comes to realize there is _far_ more to it than mere self-preservation. He sees it when B-127 has the red mech in a headlock, holding the Decepticon in place as a barge rushes toward them on a wall of water. He sees it when the machine’s mask disengages long enough for them to spare the girl one final glance. 

Charlie. B-127 was fighting for  _her_.  

Agent Burns thinks back to when he and his men had cut the Volkswagen off in a blockade. Despite the clear threat, the disguised mech had not acted until one of the soldiers grabbed a hold of Charlie. At the time he had thought the alien was trying to secure its hostage—keep its meat shield at the ready. But no, it wasn’t hiding behind the girl, it was  _protecting_  her. It took her and ran because it thought  _they_ were a threat to  _her_ safety.  

Burns suddenly recalls the events leading up to B-127’s earlier rampage. The alien mech hadn’t started fighting back until… 

He had hurt Charlie. 

And now? The remaining Decepticon had made a threat on the girl's life. So B-127, injured and out of options, made a choice to put an end to the threat, even if it meant sacrificing itself in the process. 

Burns—the entire  _planet_ —owes B-127 a great debt. They owe _Charlie Watson_  a great debt, and not just because of her role in sabotaging the satellite tower. This young woman, barely an adult, found a mechanical entity from beyond the stars and treated it like a person instead of a monster. This one girl's act of kindness inspired so much loyalty, that an alien being was willing to risk  _everything_ to save her life, and by extension, Earth. 

Mankind probably wasn’t worth such devotion, but Charlie? For B-127, she was  _more_ than worthy.  

As Agent Burns watches Earth's saviors pull themselves from the water, he realizes anything he could say to express gratitude or seek forgiveness would be vacuous and completely inadequate. It isn’t much, but the best he can offer the two heroes is a head start. Charlie’s response to the meager recompense sows his feeling of ineptitude all the more—she  _thanks_ him. 

How far has he fallen, that the kindest thing Burns can do, is _nothing_? 

It’s a humbling notion, one that he reflects on as the duo drive off into the night. The past days’ events flash through his mind; specifically, his encounters with the yellow mech. It’s like watching a highlight reel of all his mistakes.  

_"He's more human than you’ll ever be!"_  

No, B-127 was better than human.  _Charlie_ was better than human.  

Perhaps, one day, he could be too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ha ha wow what a cheesy ending. I kinda gave up at the end (I'm so tired). Hope you liked it anyway!
> 
> [Edit]: Fixed weird spacing issue


End file.
